Summer Burn

CHAPTER ONE



    “Tired?” he yelled over the roar of approaching flames. “Want me to take over?”

    Tessa shook her head and shifted the snaking hose she held. “No way!” she yelled back. But the yell was muffled by her mask, and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her at all. No, she wasn’t about to give it up.

    Tightening her grip against two hundred fifty pounds of writhing water pressure, she could see his eyes crinkling with amusement as he moved closer. The hose was almost getting away from her and she knew it. Unfortunately, so did her veteran partner.  He’d been in the department for years, and thought he knew it all.  Maybe he did, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction this time.

    But in a few seconds, she gained control, ignored the man, and concentrated the spray where it would do the most good: the rafters of the burning warehouse.  Even in spite of the gloves she wore, her hands and arms cramped as she aimed the spray.

    She wondered how much air she had left. The SCBA mask she wore contained just twenty minutes of oxygen, and right now, it tasted stale. It seemed as if they’d been in the warehouse for hours, but she knew it was just the physical exertion taking its toll. Besides, if she ran out of air, the warning bell would go off. No bell so far...

    Perspiration streamed down her face, her armpits and her back. The heavy, yellow turnouts she wore became a burden, along with her oxygen pack, as the minutes ticked by. The heat was intense, suffocating. Her arms were numb now, and thick smoke obscured her view.

    She edged further into the cavernous room before her partner finally took his turn manning the hose.

    Suddenly, an ominous rumble sounded beneath them, and Tessa heard the crack of timbers above their heads.

    “It’s coming down!” her partner yelled, as he edged back. “Move!”

    He didn’t need to tell her twice. She spun around and searched for the doorway, but black smoke swirled ominously, cutting visibility.

    The hose, she thought, as she tried not to panic. Follow the hose.

    In the darkness, she found it with her foot. Edging one foot along the base, she fought to keep from slipping. Water was everywhere now; almost as dangerous to them as the fire they fought.

    Suddenly, a timber from above crashed in front of her, sending shards of wooden embers and water against her facemask and turnouts.  She jumped back, pounded her arms and legs, and made her way over the obstacle.

    As she finally found the doorway, she was hit with a blast of water from behind that sent her careening outside. She felt her feet go out from under her before her SCBA mask smashed against her face when she hit the ground.  She skidded to a stop.

    Stunned momentarily, gasping for air, she felt a pair of strong arms reach around her waist and pull her to safety, while a roaring sound erupted from inside the warehouse.

    Lying on the asphalt, now safe from the raging inferno, Tessa flung off her helmet and breathed deeply of the fresh summer night air, before she sat up and watched the top of the building collapse into itself, then explode.

    Showers of spark and ash flew everywhere, hissing as they landed on her hair and turnouts, while she shielded her face with one arm.  Seconds later, when she looked at the place she’d hit the asphalt, it was covered with debris. An involuntary shudder shook her, as she realized how close she’d been to death.

    Her partner, Bob Neetzer, ran up. “Tessa! Are you all right?” He bent down and peered at her, his face concerned, his balding head gleaming with sweat.

    She nodded, still gasping for air. “What...why’d you turn the hose on me?” She wished she could sound angrier, but she was still winded from the fall. Aside from that, her face hurt like the dickens. Her hand came up to gingerly touch the sore spot on her cheek.

    Bob looked serious this time, no grin. “I slipped. It got away from me. Hey, I’m really...I didn’t do it on purpose. You okay?”

    She nodded again, believing the man. She realized he couldn’t say he was sorry.  The crew members were coming, and he’d lose face. In spite of that, though, she could tell he was sincere.

    Tessa was a ‘probie,’ a new recruit, with the Briarwood Fire Department. They’d joke and tease her, but when it came to fighting fires, they were all business. Even though they acted just the opposite sometimes, she knew they cared about her safety, just as they cared about all the fellow crew members. Yet, on the other hand, they were still checking her out...always checking her out...just to see if a woman could really fight fires.  Today, hopefully, she’d shown them.  Maybe they’d be easier on her.

    As she came slowly to her feet, shaking off Bob’s helping hands, she said, “Who pulled me back?”

    Another explosion sounded from inside the building, and long streams of water arched upwards in Fire Crew Five’s useless effort to salvage the warehouse.  She knew. It was a lost cause.

    She felt numb. Time seemed to stand still, while sirens wailed in the distance, and the noxious smell of burning wood and debris filled the air.

    More crewmembers drifted up to the two, and they all gazed helplessly at the fire.  Curses sounded, along with a few coughs.

    “Who was it?” she repeated to Bob, still wondering who had saved her.

    Without taking his eyes from the blaze, he said, “It was the arson investigator from the P.D.. His name is Clint.”

    This was the third fire; the third in a series of arsons in Briarwood. Yes, she’d heard of the man, heard about the good job he did, but she hadn’t met him yet.

    “Where is he?” she said, as she removed her gloves and swiped at her face. She must look as bad as the rest of her crew, she thought, with a sooty face and waterlogged hair and turnouts.  She really wanted to thank him for helping her.

    Bob waved his hand to the left absentmindedly, with his eyes still trained on the warehouse.  His expression was one of defeat, similar to the looks on all the crewmembers faces. The Enemy, fire, had won, and so had the arsonist…this time.

    Sighing, she trudged slowly to her captain who stood talking to the fire marshal. Cap’s graying hair appeared reddish from the fire’s glow, and his face was worried, like the rest. She knew he was wondering when it would end.

    “Cap, where’s the arson investigator from P.D.?” she asked.

    His eyes scanned the area, then stopped. “The tall one...over there. He’s trying to blend in. You know, look inconspicuous.”

    She frowned. “What for?”

    As his eyes returned to her, he smiled.  “Pyros.  They like to watch their handiwork.”

    Nodding, she turned to observe the arson investigator, now mingling in the growing crowd.

    Surprisingly handsome, he was half a head taller than everyone else, and his black hair grazed his shirt collar.  He was dressed casually.  A white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, encased wide shoulders, which tapered down to a slim waist and muscular thighs in blue jeans. Somehow, he didn’t look like a detective. But then, she mused, he probably wasn’t supposed to.  She wondered if he’d given himself away by pulling her back from the warehouse, but she hoped not.  To catch the vicious arsonist was imperative.  Property damage so far had been extensive.

    His expression was grim and his square jaw clenched as he watched the crowd. But, how could he spot the pyro? All the people who stood watching the blaze seemed awestruck. Fire did that to people. It seemed to mesmerize them, hypnotize them. Yet, when you worked with it, she thought, you grew to respect its power.

Tessa knew. Fire was powerful, and at the same time so beautiful, sometimes you just wanted to stand and gaze at it, like these bystanders were doing. She’d been tempted. Many times, she’d almost been pulled into its spell.

    She’d felt it...up close. It was deadly, deceptively beautiful, as it curled and leaped, then hissed like a rattler, waiting to strike. It ebbed and flowed, like a crazy river, up walls then down again, defying all laws of gravity. Like Cap said, if the flames didn’t get you, the smoke would. Dense, black smoke, an ingenious by-product of The Enemy.



    Suddenly, Tessa realized the investigator’s probing eyes were scanning her now, instead of the crowd. He was handsome and his slow, sensual smile intrigued her. She grew uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. She realized, in spite of the distance between them, that something in the depths of his dark eyes warned her away.

    Why was he staring at her?

She thought it must be her blonde hair. Long, blonde hair was unique now in the fire department. Feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious, she held her mask and gloves in one hand, and tried to smooth her damp braid with the other. Curls were escaping around her face, and she knew her unruly mass of hair was about to come loose, so she tightened the pins.

    His dark eyes raked over her once more, his smile faded, and he slowly scanned the crowd again.

    Sighing, she thought she’d have to thank him. One of these days. Maybe when she looked a little more presentable.

    Towards dawn she got her chance and regretted it.

      As she took a break from the mop-up, and sipped a cup of lukewarm coffee, a deep voice behind her said, “They let you go in this time, huh?”

    “Excuse me?” She turned and looked up at him.

Those eyes...deep brown in a tanned, rugged face that was even more arresting up close. His face held the high cheekbones of a Native American, while his nose was a bit too prominent. But he had that certain energy that elevates a man to “sexy” status. She’d seen it in other men, and never quite understood it. It was like they were wound up like a coil with some kind of tension. Maybe even sexual tension. And like her friend Liz said, ‘Them that has it, has it.’

    This man had it.

    A grin flashed across his face. Of course, he knew somehow, maybe a crewmember told him, that this was her first fire.

He continued, “You could get burned, you know. Or at least drowned. I wonder if they’ve thought of issuing the crew life-boats...”

At that point, all thoughts of thanking this obnoxious man went out of her head completely.

    She raised her hand to stop his next mocking words. “Don’t tell me,” she said tightly, “you think women should stay in their places, right? Somewhere far from the fire department, preferably?”

    The grin grew wider. “I didn’t say that.”

    “You didn’t have to,” she replied, in a disgusted tone. “Join the club. And don’t think you’re exclusive either. I’ve been getting it since day one.”

    Turning her back on him, she fumed silently. She was the first woman ever in the all-male domain of Briarwood Fire Department. After two months, they still didn’t accept her. Not really. Not as an equal. She could feel it. The way they stopped talking when she came in the room. The significant looks they shot back and forth. The snickers.

    She’d known all along it would be tough gaining acceptance. She just didn’t know how tough.

    A chuckle sounded behind her, yet his voice held a note of surprise. “You’re a little sensitive, aren’t you? I was just kidding.”

    Tears of anger burned her eyes, but she blinked them back and didn’t reply. She was tired of the jibes. Tired of the kidding. Tired of having to prove herself.

    In a softer voice he said, “I see your face took a licking. The paramedics are over there. Maybe you should get checked out.”

    She remained silent. She hadn’t seen her face yet, but she’d felt it. Undoubtedly, it was bruised where the mask hit. Yes, it was a mess, like the rest of her right now.

    “Bruises heal,” she countered, still not looking back at him.

    Another chuckle. “Yeah. I guess they do.”

    Her eyes scanned the warehouse, now a smoldering pile of rubble. She’d been inside it two years ago...in happier times. Billy, her son, had been with her.

    “Not much left, is there?” he said.

    No. She had to admit that. Ironically, it was in shambles...not much left of the warehouse, or her marriage to the man who owned it.

    “My ex-husband owns...owned it.” She turned and looked up at him.

    His eyebrows arched up in surprise. “Max McKay? You’re his.. .well, I’ll be damned.”

She smiled serenely. “Yes, perhaps you will.”  With that, she returned to her mop-up chores.



    Clint watched her move away, and grinned again. She was a plucky woman. Yeah, he could imagine how bad of a time the crew gave her, and he felt badly he’d just added to it. He hadn’t meant to. It was standard to harass ‘probies,’ but with a woman it would be worse. Especially a woman with blonde hair and an attitude. And a heart-shaped face. And flashing green eyes.

    But her ex-husband was Max McKay. And in spite of Clint’s interest in the woman, he found it curious that the arsons started in McKay’s buildings shortly after she’d joined Fire Station Five.

    He’d heard they had a woman recruit a while back. He just didn’t know who she was until now.

    Trying to curb his detective mind, and his suspicions, he approached Fire Five’s captain.

    “Safe yet?” he asked the man who sat on the bumper of a fire rescue truck. Clint was anxious to go in, and now he leaned on his shovel with his video camera in its case slung over one shoulder.

    The Captain ran a blackened hand through his hair. “She’s still smokin’ but cooled down some. We guess it started towards the back. That’s the way it looked when we first got here, Clint.”

    Nodding, rubbing his eyes as a sudden gust of wind blew white smoke towards them, Clint said, “Yeah. That follows.” He knew arson fires started in back of buildings as a classic pattern. Burn marks and alligatoring on what was left of the walls would confirm it. Kerosene, probably, like the other two fires. The incendiary of choice. Most arsonists used it. The stuff was cheap and convenient.

    “Hey, hear you got McKay’s wife on your crew.”

    Cap nodded.

    God, the man looks tired, Clint thought. As if it took effort to even speak. His face was blackened with soot, and his eyes, as they came up and met Clint’s, looked hollow, defeated.

    “For sure,” Cap finally replied, “she’s doin’ good. A real trooper, that kid. Takes a lot of crap from the guys, but she handles it. Shower’s been a problem, but that’s all. They take turns, sort of a shift thing.”

    A sudden image assailed Clint. A picture of the ex-Mrs. McKay, nude, lathering her body. Yeah, he thought, growing uneasy. The shower, the woman, and all those red-blooded males. That would be a problem!

    “You think she’s involved?” Clint asked the man, not wanting to hear the answer, yet knowing he had to ask the question.

    Cap grinned up at him. “Single, as far as I know. No boyfriends yet.”

    “Cute. You know what I mean.”

    “The fires?” Cap paused and scratched his head. “She just came back on shift when we got the call...” his voice trailed off and he looked worried. “But why would she?”

    “Bitterness. Anger. Who knows? Don’t you think it’s a coincidence, Cap?”

    The man’s brows furrowed. “Maybe, but just that. No reason for it. I know she’s got a kid. He’s around five. Cute little bugger. Why would she? She’d lose him and everything else. Nah, I don’t think so, Clint. Not her. She just ain’t the type.”

    Clint gazed around, and watched the tangle of hoses slowly disappear as the crew packed them neatly on the fire trucks. He searched for her, and finally saw her blonde head among the crewmembers. In spite of the long night, she worked along with the men, packing equipment away. “I’ve got to pursue it, Cap. Mum’s the word, okay?”

    Smiling sardonically, Cap replied, “Who knows? You might enjoy it, guy. She looks great when she’s cleaned up.”

    Clint grinned, as his eyes followed her. “She’s not bad looking when she’s sooty, either. But that’s not what I’m after, Cap.” The grin faded, and his gaze returned to the Captain. “No one’s been hurt so far in these fires. But McKay owns a lot of properties. And some are apartments.”

    Cap nodded grimly.

    “One of these days,” Clint continued, “someone will die and I want to stop it before that happens.”

    “I can’t imagine Tessa-- “

      “Stranger things have happened, Cap. Divorces get nasty. I know first hand, believe me.”

    “Susan still in town?”

    Clint shrugged. He didn’t care where his ex-wife was. She was the least of his worries. He had his daughter, and that’s all that mattered.

A precocious eight-year-old, Melissa made his life ultimately more bearable. He had sole custody, after his ex-wife had vanished one day. Six months later, she’d reappeared with a new hairdo, lots of money, and divorce papers in her hand.

Clint’s eyes grew hard as he thought of her. She’d found her man in Las Vegas; some rich millionaire with Armani suits and Gucci loafers. Someone who could give her all the material things in life that Clint couldn’t.

    But, she’d abandoned Melissa. That was what the judge focused on, and Clint had won the long, drawn out court battle. Susan came for visitations occasionally after that, but her visits had become less and less frequent in the past year. And Clint was happy about it.

    Yes, Clint knew about bitterness.

    His eyes scanned the scene, and found Tessa’s blonde head again.

    Yes, he knew it well. He also knew people weren’t always who they appeared to be.